


Good Boy

by Sarita1046



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Attempted Seduction, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Manhandling, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarita1046/pseuds/Sarita1046
Summary: “Patricia says I shouldn't crave the touch of those who hurt us, but...this'll be our secret.”





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Split Kink Meme prompt: The girls try to seduce Dennis to escape. Claire remains the only of the trio without a fic! 
> 
> http://split-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/518.html#comments

For a moment, Claire sat frozen in horror on one cot, too shaken to even glance at Casey on the other. Until she leapt up and began pounding on the heavy metal door. 

She pounded and shouted until her palms stung and her throat began to grow hoarse.

_I choose you first._ What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Kidnapping, sexual assault…these were things that happened in movies, sure. But in real life? How could this actually be happening?

Claire’s thoughts were cut short as the door opened and their abductor shoved Marcia back inside with an agonized cry of disgust. 

Thank God. There was no way she was out there for long enough for anything really bad to have happened, right?

Trembling, Marcia grasped onto Claire’s hands as both girls struggled to keep tears at bay.

“He wanted me to dance with him…” was all Marcia managed. Her stockings were soaked.

Casey just stared at the two of them, chest heaving.

 

Skip ahead 36 hours and their situation had grown even more bizarre. Claire still marveled at how that was even possible.

So this nutcase apparently thought that dressing up and acting like a perverted man, a British woman and now a little boy – would what, scare them? Confuse them?

What made matters more frustrating was how close Casey had seemed to come with convincing the nine-year-old persona to let them out. Claire still couldn’t believe how close Casey had dared get to the guy…

And now he’d come back. _Shit._ She was so close! Too close to give up now! 

Heaving herself up with her hands, Claire’s grip slipped a bit. With one more burning pull-up, she finally managed to make it through the opening in the drywall ceiling. 

Damn, she’d never felt luckier to own high heels. Though what she really wanted to do was throw her shoe at that freak out there who was currently whining like a little kid to be let in.

 

The first realization Claire had when she began crawling through the dark space of the heating ducts was how incredibly closed in she felt. But this was no time for claustrophobia. There was an end in sight, there had to be. There always was. They would make it out of this, she would see to that.

She’d get out, find help and then they’d all be safe. She’d be home to her Dad in no time.

All these fleeting thoughts took a backseat when the sound of her own ragged breathing was joined by a sound below. Some sort of steam room just beneath the next opening in the heating shaft.

Frantically pulling off the metal grid, Claire dropped down as gingerly as possible onto the ground below. Thankfully, she hadn’t far to fall and began racing as fast as possible in the opposite direction of the angry voice she could already hear behind her.

_Why hadn’t she crawled further while still in the ducts??_

“Hey!” he yelled. So he was back to being an adult man for the moment.

Claire had never run so fast in her life. Turning a slight corner, she charged into the nearest of a set of lockers and shut the door as quietly as she could.

As she held a hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing, Claire suddenly questioned her decision to stop running. She supposed she subconsciously feared he’d catch up to her or that she’d come up against another locked door or a dead end. 

Too late now.

Their kidnapper strode past her locker, leaving everything deathly quiet for several seconds. Claire still didn’t risk removing her hand from her mouth.

She couldn’t help wondering if perhaps there was an exit up ahead that she’d missed when a pair of piercing blue eyes shocked her to the core. 

“You like to make fun of us, but we’re more powerful than you think." 

How had he known it was this locker? Just how good was his hearing?

“Please, step out of the locker,” he sounded calm enough. For now, better do as he says.

Once again, Claire tried not to think of what he’d done with her father. 

As slowly as possible, she opened the metal door and stepped out. She was fairly certain they could both hear her heartbeat at this point.

He didn’t seem to have a gun or knife of any kind, though that hardly mattered.

“You shouldn't trick children. That shows who you are.”

Words were enough.

“Your sweater, it’s-it’s dirty, it’s filthy…remove it.” The way his icy gaze met her own as he gave his order sent a chill straight down her spine to her toes.

Going into autopilot mode at this point, Claire ignored the tears pricking at her eyes and gingerly removed her sweater. The air, humid as it was, set the hairs on her arms at attention. 

Claire carefully dropped the article of clothing at his feet and crossed her arms over her torso.

She’d never felt so out of control – the way he was breathing heavily while taking in her body with his blue gaze scared her more than anything she’d ever experienced. 

That was when survival instinct hit. The fear-induced molasses in her brain switched to last-resort mode as she made the decision to do something that would have disgusted her in any other situation.

Except that she could see a door to his left just a few yards over. If she could just reach the door...

The man before her sighed heavily and ran a hand over his cropped hair. “I’m trying to be good,” he looked at her almost matter-of-factly. 

…

“It’s fine, really. This is all such a…welcome break from routine,” Claire was really grasping at anything he might want to hear. “We – I’m really sorry I ran. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just afraid for my dad…when he didn’t come back…”

“I didn’t hurt him,” the man cut in.

Claire didn’t let the relief distract her too noticeably. “What’s your name?”

The man’s tongue darted out to run along his lower lip before he averted his gaze again. 

“Dennis.”

“Mmm, Dennis,” Claire was popular at school, sure, but had little idea how to flirt with a fully-grown man. Slowly approaching him but careful not to touch him too soon and risk a negative reaction, Claire pushed her exposed torso out of mind. 

She’d acted in theatre where she’d even kissed boys – all make believe. She could do this. He was clearly nervous and she could use that, as long as she didn’t push him too far. 

As long as she kept him here, they had all the time in the world. 

“What’s it like? Living down here? You live alone?” she probed gently.

“W-well, no,” Dennis stammered, “We all have each other. The others…”

_Others…the woman and the boy?_

Claire had heard of people with multiple personalities, but figured it was all more hyped up by Hollywood. Not something that turned up on your own doorstep.

“I’ve never looked forward to having roommates in college. They can be so annoying. Always making a mess and all…I understand why you might be bored of them.” 

“Not roommates,” retorted Dennis gruffly, “Not here to talk about that.”

Claire had to step up her game. He was still slowly backing up and they’d turned left now, edging closer to the door up ahead. 

She just had to switch their position, so that she was closest to the exit.

Ignoring the rushing in her ears, she continued, “You seem…tense.”

They’d reached about a foot away from the threshold now. He kept eyeing her chest.

“Here. It’s okay, I promise not to touch your skin,” Claire soothed, remembering the bathroom and his insistence on them keeping clean. Claire reached up and slowly began to rub his shoulders.

Apparently her nearly bare torso was having a wild effect on him, because he actually closed his eyes and let this happen. Claire took the opportunity to swiftly tip-toe behind him in her bare feet, continuing to knead his flesh through his button-down.

"Not allowed..." he rasped, breath hot against her fingers.

"Just relax," she focused on keeping her tone as calming as possible.

Ever so carefully, she removed one hand to push on the door. There was no handle on their side, so one push would tell if it was locked or not. It was now or never. 

She had to at least try. 

“That’s good…” she nearly whispered, not far from his left ear.

Leaning close to him to maintain contact and not arouse suspicion before he opened his eyes, Claire pressed the palm of her other hand against the door’s surface.

“Good boy.”

Although she’d been keeping watch on his face, Claire let out a petrified yelp when Dennis’s eyes sprung open and he grabbed her roughly by the hair, tossing her to the floor. 

As Claire struggled to register her surroundings through the fog of shock and panic, Dennis removed his glasses. He frowned down at her as she scooted backward across the cold floor. 

“You’re not supposed to say things like that. You’re not supposed to be like her. I don’t want to play right now.”

Damn it, the little kid was back. 

Wait – he was strong, but that should mean he wasn’t quite as strong as the Dennis guy. She still had a chance!

“Mr. Dennis wants his turn again,” was all the man before her said. “You shouldn’t have called me.”

Called him?

“I’m going now.”

Claire nearly sighed with relief. He was still the 'little boy' and he was leaving. Could she finally glimpse what was on the other side of the door when he went out? 

Then he readjusted his glasses, and Claire’s stomach dropped.


	2. Breathless

Claire practically charged into the tiny closet just to get away from her pursuer. To her relief, he didn’t grab for her but simply slammed the door behind her.

Terrifying yes, but at least he wasn’t putting his hands on her anymore. 

Still though, she was truly trapped now.

Once the shrill tone of the drill started outside her door, it didn’t take long for Claire to begin hyperventilating. She felt the draft now more than ever and closed her eyes against her tears, trying desperately to calm her breathing.

Pacing around the small space, Claire embraced her bare midriff and began rocking herself in an attempt to self-soothe. Everything about this situation was so foreign, it all still felt like a nightmare. 

Beneath it all, she wondered if anyone was even still searching for them. Would they even know where to look? The three of them didn’t even know where they were!

On some level, she desperately hoped that Casey could use whatever crazy survival skills she’d shown before to actually make contact with the outside world – if not get them out.

More than anything, this thought angered Claire as much as it seemed the best resort. She had always known what to do, how to lead others, how to solve problems. She’d always been there for Marcia and now they were separated. 

Most of all, she missed her father…

Her breaths coming at a slower rate, Claire finally began to feel the exhaustion wash over her and slumped to the floor beside an empty metal shelf. The fluorescent lights were a nuisance, promising to keep her hypervigilant when she just wanted to rest.

For some reason, she doubted he was coming back anytime soon.

 

Time lagged from that point on. With no sense of how long had passed since she’d first entered the closet, Claire was confused. Her mind was fuzzy, from fear but mostly from hunger. 

A weird haze muddled her thoughts as she pondered at what had roused her from her light slumber. The low buzzing of the lights sounded the same as ever.

And what was that? _Footsteps_. And a light ting of metal as something – perhaps a screw – dropped to the floor on the other side of the closet door. 

Was someone tinkering with the lock?

Slowly, the door opened and Claire instinctively slid a little further behind the shelf, as much as would conceal her body. 

There he stood. Stiff and menacing, carrying a tray. 

“Water and some food,” was all he said as he set down the tray on the floor a bit to her left. The bread was coated in what could have been peanut butter or mustard. Claire hadn’t a clue.

“Thank you…” the words sounded as if they came from someone else, a result of her autopilot stupor. 

She was starving but had no intention of eating in front of this man. Still, she had to keep up appearances. 

Reaching to grab the tray, Claire jumped a bit when the man – Dennis – knelt before her. He was wearing gloves, she idly noticed. Surgical gloves.

“Open your mouth,” was all he stated. Was he checking for pills?

Very hesitantly, she complied, keeping her eyes half-closed against the suddenly harsh light. 

“Good girl,” He stated gruffly, reminding her of her earlier statement to him that had set him off, “It doesn’t feel good, does it?”

He reached a finger into her mouth then and gently probed the center of her tongue. Eliciting a small gag reflex from her, he removed his finger from her mouth and brushed it softly over her lower lip.

“You women…” he continued in a low tone, stroking over her jaw line and across her throat, “So curious. They call men freaks. They call us perverse when you poke and prod every opening, every surface…it might hurt, but that hardly matters…”

His rubber-clad digit moved from her pulse point to her ear and Claire shivered involuntarily. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” Claire no longer had full agency of her own words. They were little more than stream of consciousness by this point. “I never meant to upset you. Just please don’t…”

She still couldn't believe she was giving in so easily...

“Don’t what?” cut off the man before her as he slowly encircled his fingers around her throat. “You’ve never known what it’s like to be held down, have all the power taken from you…have you? Patricia knows I can’t touch in a way that’ll take everything, but there are other ways. It’s not as if you’re pure anyway…”

Claire was trying her best to keep her breathing at bay. His grip wasn’t tightening, but he still scooted a bit closer as he dropped his hand from her throat to her chest. It was all happening so fast that when his fingertip started circling her nipple beneath the top edge of her bra cup, she went stark still. Soon enough, her lungs cried out, but she didn’t dare breathe. When she attempted to lean back further, the hard wall pressed almost painfully against her spine.

She was fairly sure she heard him groan, but was already feeling like she might pass out. She couldn’t focus. Her head started to spin faster as she heard his breath quicken. 

“I decide when and how the touching happens,” were the words that met her ears moments before she felt his gloved hand reach up under her skirt. That was all it took for her to draw breath again, screwing shut her eyes tight as the tears finally started falling. She was determined not to look him in those cold blue eyes while he did who knows what to her. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, that voice chimed in again, scolding her for not even trying to put up a fight. Claire thought she heard herself whimper. 

“She says I shouldn't crave the touch of those who hurt us, but...this'll be our secret. To hell with Patricia,” his voice sounded wholly strained now. _When did she ever hurt him? And who was Patricia??_

When she felt his latex-clad digit push past the elastic band of her leggings, Claire had to resist the urge to dry heave. 

She’d never been touched there by another person. Ever. And now that she was, she’d never wanted more to retreat back into herself. What she hated most was how the combination of his apparent inexperienced fumbling and surprising gentleness was actually sending tingles from her groin to her belly.

She was horrified and disgusted and for some reason, her body seemed like an entirely separate animal.

Dennis had moved closer, crouched over her legs which were now slightly parted by his hand. For a split second, Claire entertained the idea of peeing on herself as Marcia had or even sticking her finger down her throat to make herself sick on him. But somehow, he seemed too close to risk pissing off. Nowhere to run or hide. 

He teased her opening, but never quite entered her – something for which Claire considered herself the luckiest person alive at the moment. But he did seem to have an idea of how fondling the nub above her entrance might elicit more of a response.

Claire was having significant trouble controlling her breathing at this point and tried to compensate by moving backwards, when he gripped her hair firmly in his other hand to keep her still. Somewhere, she registered that her elbow must have knocked over the water glass, the lukewarm liquid already seeping against her left hand...both hands still useless at her sides. 

Her captor took no notice of the mess, hot breath quickening against her forehead. 

“No direct touch…” he managed between pants. 

So it was all about teasing and terrorizing. She could live with that, if only she survived and he didn’t touch her further. Still, the anger seethed within her, rivaled only by the gradually growing heat between her thighs. Her fingertips dug frantically into the concrete floor.

“ _I_ say what happens. When you cry, when you _scream_ …” Dennis suddenly pulled back with a strangled moan, releasing her hair and drawing away his hand from her center.

Claire nearly broke down in tears when the final brush of his fingers sent a flurry of pleasurable waves through her body. 

The media always hyped up that journey for women, and she’d achieved it with a crazy guy in an underground storage closet. 

Through her haze of horror, shame and mild euphoria, Claire dared to open her eyes. 

Dennis had stood up and staggered backward to the door. Upon his rapid departure, Claire caught glimpse of a sizable new stain at the crotch of his slacks.


	3. Enough

If she was honest, Claire was immensely grateful for the sandwich that had been left in the clumsy departure of her captor. 

Hurriedly, she ate the sandwich and resolved to take a quick nap and clear her head. 

The three of them _would_ escape this situation. They would make it out alive, she would see to that. 

 

Claire could have sworn not two minutes had passed before the soft creak of the door opening roused her. Had she fallen asleep so quickly?

Blinking up, Claire steeled herself for whatever may come her way now – and found herself momentarily speechless.

Standing in the doorway before her, peering down in terror, was an older woman with short white hair. She was dressed nicely and many rings adorned her fingers. Claire couldn’t help but wonder what she could possibly be doing down here in this place…

Mustering up the strength in her sleepy limbs, Claire roused herself from the floor and gently implored the woman.

“Help… _please_ …”

The woman’s eyes then glazed over a bit and her hand dropped from her mouth slightly, one finger going over her lips in a gesture to stay silent, a look of realization dawning on her features. 

As soon as the lady quietly closed the door, Claire stood and tip-toed over to the door, pressing her ear against its surface.

“I’ve finally found the bathroom!” she heard the woman call. 

Was she actually a guest of this man, Dennis? Or whatever he currently called himself?

Then something else dawned on Claire like car headlights blooming to life. 

_The lady had opened the door and left it unlocked._

 

Everything moved in a blur after that. 

Once the woman and Dennis’s footsteps had faded away and failed to return after about ten minutes, Claire tapped gently on the wall adjoining her room to the one holding Marcia.

“Marcia, can you hear me?”

“Oh God. Claire! Yes!” Claire was thankful that her friend also kept her voice low, just in case.

“Is your door still locked?”

“Yes…”

Damn it. 

“Listen, Marcia. We’re going to get out of here. Do you see anything in the room with you? Anything you can use to open the door?”

A pause. “Yeah! A hanger!”

“Good! See you if you can stretch it out and reach the lock on the outside!”

After a few minutes, Claire realized how little time they might have and felt her stomach tense up even more than it already was, “You can do this Marcia! Just think, soon we’ll be home and laughing about this. You’ll be wearing that ugly ass sweater that you love.”

Claire almost laughed despite herself. Then nearly burst into tears at her best friend’s next words.

“I got it!”

Claire wanted to sob with joy at the creak of Marcia’s door swinging open. She almost felt guilty for not trying Marcia’s door herself but she figured it’d be safer for them both once they could both escape the storage closets.

Now, however, she gripped the handle and pulled open her own door. Embracing Marcia, Claire gestured to the hanger.

“Hold on to that.”

Marcia nodded as they made their way down the hall. “We have to find a way out. A key or something. He’s got to have a spare key.”

“He seems like a serious control freak, he’s got to have an extra,” Claire realized they were still whispering and that was fine by her. 

They’d no sooner turned the nearest corner into a large den with a desk and computer that they ran into Casey.

“No! Go back the other way! He’s coming,” Casey rasped in alarm, dark eyes wide. 

Just as a door opened from a ways away, Claire acted on impulse and grabbed Marcia’s hand, scurrying to hide in a nearby coat rack.

Just as she predicted, Casey remained stark still as a shadow fell into the corridor. Always playing the innocent one. Would she tell on them?

Taking a deep breath, Claire gently reached over and plucked the unfolded hanger from Marcia’s fingers. She’d have to do this herself. As much as Claire trusted her friend to want to do the right thing, she couldn’t risk not knowing what Marcia’s resolve might be.

Plus Casey could provide a good distraction. As far as Dennis knew, Claire and Marcia were still locked up in those closets.

Something was amiss though. All three girls could easily hear the man’s loud, labored breathing and Claire saw Casey’s posture stiffen and back uo slightly at whatever she saw in front of her – what she and Marcia only saw via shadow.

A tall, lurking shadow.

She had to act now. The clothing rack was nearly directly behind where his form now stood.

The anger that simmered in her chest as she lifted the hanger threatened to boil forth. ‘Good boy’, indeed. She had absolutely zero patience left for this pathetic manchild and his probable mommy issues.

Silently as possible, Claire held her breath and leapt the few feet to her captor. Her adrenaline was pumping too fast by the time she set eyes on his altered height and his crazed gaze as his head whipped around in her direction.

If anything, that only spurred her on further. This was turning into a real freak show now? Well bring it on! Where the _hell_ was it written in stone that psychos like this got the right to claim the lives of innocent people?

The man – Dennis – let out a chilling sound…something between a throaty grunt and a roar as Claire stabbed the end of the hanger into his right eye, over and over again. 

Finally unfreezing, Casey aided with her own distraction, charging at their captor from the other direction. 

Meanwhile, Marcia stepped out of the coat rack and started shrieking - an awful, ear-piercing sound but it only aided in the chaos that now stalled the beast before them.

But distraction would only spare them for so long, and so in the next moment, she plunged the metal barb into his other eye, tearing a deep, bloody gash all the way down his cheek into his lip.

The door was still open. This thought registered with Claire for some reason, perhaps because one of the other girls – Casey, she thought – had pointed it out. 

_Now_ it was acceptable to run.

Grabbing Claire’s wrist, Casey dashed for the door, Marcia following on their heels, as the creature behind them continued to wail.

 _Just get out_ , Claire thought, idly aware of Marcia slamming the door behind them. _Get out while he was still blind and distracted._

They ran and ran, turned corners and ascended from this basement level – until they heard sirens…that woman must have called the police.

And then they broke out into the plane sunlight, directly into a cluster of police cars. 

It wasn’t until she had run a few yards down the street past the furthest cop car, that Claire realized she still gripped the bloody hanger in her fist. 

Even if he didn’t fear the police, they had made it out to a very crowded area. That man would have to go through a shower of bullets before he could reach them. 

And even then, Claire would go down fighting.


End file.
